


Glenview 7537

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Philip Marlowe - Raymond Chandler
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, Detective Noir, Erskine program, F/M, POV First Person, Private Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: Chandler-ish AU where Coulson is a 1940s P.I.
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Listen to my voice I'll guide us through the dark





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



> Don't ask. I have no idea where this came from. Especially since I'm not sure who's reading. ;)

**one**

She was the last thing I expected to drop into my broke excuse of an office; usually, what follows the initial knock and cigarette smoke is one of those guys you know spend their life pretending to be a „good husband“. Whatever that is. Never got around to marrying myself. Guess that’s what you get when you have to change your name to stay afloat (and alive). My door says „Philip J. Marlowe“, so now that’s the only person you’ll find behind it.

It hadn’t stopped raining for weeks. Bloody collar never dries when you have to wear your coat every day. At least you forget about the moisture, having to give people such a run for their money. Even if ninety percent of your cases revolve around jealous husbands and lost dachshunds.

She showed up on a Sunday. Don’t know why; maybe she thought it was the most probable day to find an empty waiting room. Which, while it is true, didn’t keep me from sleeping in, feet on my desk. Saturdays are always the hardest. That’s when people expect the most of you – and it’s where you expect the most fun out of life, trying to find some on the bottom of a glass while shadowing a client.

Thankfully, I’d been awake for a bit (even if I didn’t look the part), counting this week’s spare coins in the open drawer. Still, the knock scared the living hell out of me.  
I think what surprised me most wasn’t to find a calm young woman behind the cigarette, if was that she didn’t start talking until she’d closed the door and walked up to my desk. She stood beside me, glancing at the coins in the desk drawer, greeting me with „Three dollars and fifty-two cents“. I was so stunned I could only nod; I’d just counted it.

She half-turned to sit on the desk, swiftly tipping the ashes of her cigarette right into the drawer as there was no tray. I finally had the presence of mind to close my top shirt button.  
„Mr Marlowe“, she said, „I need you to check out the Stark plant with me.“  
I almost swallowed my tongue whole.  
„You know what I’m talking about?“, she asked, flicking some ash off her cobalt-blue glove.  
I nodded again. I had read about the experiments in the newspapers. As had the whole of Los Angeles, but Stark had always had too many people on his payroll.  
„Say, do you talk sometime?“  
I couldn’t tell if there was a smirk or not; but since I thought I saw a spark in her eye, I raised my chin enough to reply. „Never.“

I think she was being polite by ignoring my lazy quip.  
„I need you as backup.“  
„What are you, a cop?“, I tried, regretting it the instant it had left my mouth.  
She put out her gasper in my drawer, leaving it amid the change.  
„Are _you_ , Marlowe?“  
Without another word, she stood up, adjusted her gloves. What a blue. The only thing I could do was give her one of my cards (the last one I had been able to afford, but only I knew that). Maybe there was a shadow of a nod, maybe there wasn’t, but she almost left in a hurry, leaving behind only a faint trace of that French tobacco.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where I'm going with this but I'll get there somehow.  
> This one's a little shorter.

**two**

It was Marta who made me go to the plant. I probably would have gone sooner or later, but I hardly trust myself to make decisions without sleeping on it. That’s the sort of thing to get you killed. But Marta wouldn’t let it rest, pestering me as soon as I got into the office the next morning, neglecting the whole of two pages I had given her to type that week. And you don’t contradict Marta. At least she’s doing something for her wages.

Sure enough, she was there, sitting in the waiting room with the other applicants, pretending to re-read her curriculum vitae before getting called up. She made sure not to give anything away when she recognized me, giving me one of those nods you’d give a complete stranger. I gave a fake name to the secretary, then went to sit across from her. The only thing she did was to point her lighter like a pistol as she lit a cigarette. I touched my chest in response, my gun hidden underneath my coat.

I started sweating as soon as she went in. When she didn’t return from Stark’s office after ten minutes, and since I couldn’t hear anything from inside, I tipped my hat to the secretary and went out into the corridor. Just as I’d expected, there was no balcony on the second floor that could have allowed me to pop into the office from the outside. When I heard one of the windows break, it dawned on me that what she would probably need was a fast getaway. Luckily for me, that was the only thing I could always provide without having to think about it. I rumbled down the stairs; Lola was parked around the corner. 

I stormed out to drive onto the sidewalk below Stark’s window, and lo and behold, there she was: jumping from the second floor with the confidence of an acrobat, landing on the driver’s seat. Her hair was only mildly disarrayed. I floored it.

„Who are you?“, I yelled as we shot onto the highway.  
„Call me Skye“, she said.  
It took me a moment to gather the courage to ask. „That’s not your real name, is it?“  
„Right. But neither is yours, Coulson.“


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing. Forgive me.

**three**

Almost an hour passed until I pulled over. It was one of those diners that could be anywhere; they all look the same. The waitress is always wearing a pink apron, the seats are always red, and there is always coffee. And coffee was what we ordered; black coffee and Four Roses.

„You need to explain“, I said. I felt like there was a truckload of things I should have known in advance. But then again, I had decided to drive to the plant, so I figured she didn’t actually owe me anything.  
But Skye patiently described the situation, explaining that she used to be an active member of the Rising Tide. She had apparently lost someone due to Stark’s experiments for the Erskine program – someone very close to her, but she wouldn’t give any details. I get it – I wouldn’t talk about Audrey with just anyone, especially not with someone I’d just met. 

We had to order another round of coffee and whiskey, then another; the waitress didn’t bat an eye. The next step, Skye said, was to uncover who had known about the experiments. She also suspected someone had leaked information about the program to the Germans, which wasn’t hard to imagine. Word was that to pick up the newest chatter, you only had to spend a night a Ciro’s; without underground groups like the Rising Tide, who paid close attention to warfare intelligence dynamics, we would never have survived the first three years of the war.

„You said you used to be an active member. So you’re not, anymore?“  
She took a small sip of Four Roses, leaving a slim smudge of red lipstick on the glass. It was hard for me not to keep looking at it. It was a perfectly oval shape.  
„That’s right. I did what I needed to do. Now I’m on my own.“  
Maybe it was the whiskey, but I said, „That’s the worst. And the best.“  
It made her smile knowingly.  
„Agreed.“  
She lit another cigarette, and it was one of those rare moments where you wish colour photography existed: her red lips, the stained glass, her blue gloves, the flame.

„You’re not an ‚active member‘ either, or are you now?“  
I swallowed. God knows how she’d found out about my name, but once you knew that, it wasn’t too hard to read up on me.  
„They took my badge for ‚talking back‘. That’s what they said.“  
She seemed interested; I think I almost blushed.  
„Disagreed with a policy. Let someone get away.“  
„And now you’ve changed your name.“  
„High risk of labour accidents. Too young to die.“  
She smiled, then waved at the waitress, who came scuttling over to our table.  
„Another whiskey?“  
„No, thanks“, Skye smiled. „Just a glass of milk.“


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phil is the perfect marlowe don't @ me

**four**

She said she’d be in touch. I drove her to the nearest cinema so she could get a cab.  
„Thank you“, she said, getting out of the car. It was the only thing she’d said since we’d left the diner.  
„Pleasure“, I managed, offering her a match. She covered it with her palm, her lips frozen over the flame for a moment. Then she was gone.

I waited. A day passed, then two days, then three. I hadn’t taken up any other cases because I thought Skye might be back too soon. I was mistaken, and my drawer was empty. Marta started to bring me breakfast. I slept next to the phone; my shoulders have never been in worse shape than they were then.

„You need to get out“, Marta said, collecting the empty bottle of Old Forester from the windowsill. I eyed the telephone.  
„I’ll be here“, she said, taking note of my every movement. I felt embarrassed.  
„No messages from earlier?“, I asked, but it was no use.

I drove around aimlessly, circling back to the Cahuenga Building again and again, hoping for some reason to see something in my own window, or to bump into Skye. I couldn’t decide where else to look.  
I don’t know why I stayed in the car; Lola isn’t the most stealthy, and surely it was only a matter of time until someone would spot me in front of my office building. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to drive home, and I felt too restless to sit behind my desk. 

My packet was almost empty by three in the morning. I had seen Marta leave shortly before midnight; the building had to be empty by now.  
Suddenly, someone switched on the light in my office. I dropped my unlit match; reaching for it below the passenger seat, my fingers found something soft.

It was one of Skye’s blue gloves. It rustled when I picked it up, and I hastily reached inside. It was our receipt from the diner; there was something scrawled on the back.  
I lit another match.  
_Hope you brought spare socks. They’ll be onto you by THursday._  
I swallowed. She had circled four numbers on the receipt; 2-1-1-5 reading from top to bottom. A phone number, I thought, but I didn’t know which letters to dial at the beginning.

Tires screeched; a grey car rushed past me. I almost dropped my unlit gasper – I had completely forgotten about the light in my office. It was too late to run upstairs now; I had better follow whoever had just broken into Cahuenga. Thankfully, despite her age, Lola wasn’t the slowest on the road.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one only has Phil.

**five**

Of course, it started to rain heavily, and as always, it gave me the impression that Lola’s headlights had suddenly gotten weaker. I had to squinny to keep up with the car before me; it was hard to see it through the rain and on the unlit streets. Soon, we reached the city limits, but whoever I was following didn’t intend to slow down. 

I didn’t have time to look at my watch, but I’d guess we drove for another half-hour before the car made a sudden left and I had to slow down so I could follow without being noticed too soon.

They stopped in front of a large warehouse. There weren’t too many buildings around; my best choice was to try to hide lola behind a small shack and hope that nobody would shine a flashlight in her direction. I decided to sneak around the warehouse and lit a cigarette; it was the last one I had, and for some reason, that was when I realized I should be worried. Worried about myself, worried about whom I would find, worried about Stark’s secrets and moles and the syndicate. Worried about Skye. While I was sure glad not to have seen her around, I was afraid of what else that could mean. 

I hadn’t counted on the side entrance door squeaking this much. To my detriment, I had decided to open it slowly and instantly gave myself away. Before it all went dark, I was able to make out three guys: one tall and slim, whom I recognized to have been the driver; one discernibly older, wearing a hat from the past decade; one average-build, sleek fellow who was pointing a gun at me. The last thing I saw before I was out was his triumphant grin; he obviously loved what he was doing.

When I finally came to, it was pitch-dark; I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. They had to have closed a door on me, or something of the sort. There’s nothing I wished for more in that moment than another smoke and a glass of whiskey. I sat up, reaching for the diner receipt in my pocket. I jumped up to find a door as soon as I realized it was gone. Sure enough, my hands found a knob; I managed to force my way out of there by throwing myself against the wood a couple of times. I was lucky they had only blocked it with a chair. My eyes squinted at the faint light produced by a lonely ceiling lamp.

I had to get to Skye as soon as possible, had to reach her somehow before those brutes could get to her. I remembered the numbers on the receipt alright, but they were no use without the rest. In any case, I had to get out of there soon if I wanted to see daylight ever again. The warehouse was empty as far as I could tell; they must have left hours ago. Lola’s windshield was smashed, leaving the seats in billions of glass splinters. Despite the cold, I took off my coat to sit on it. I had to get back to the city somehow, even if it was at half the speed I came, growling at the airstream.

I stopped at the first joint I saw, knocked back a drink, then another, trying to figure out my next step. The neon lights from the window spelled out the bar’s name, _Thoreau_ ; the strong colours were projected onto the guests‘ faces, giving the impression that they were in a show. I observed the people standing next to me, each staring into a glass, smoking for no other reason than to make the night pass quicker. One of the drunk girls decided to cling to her man as a safety measure; I could tell she must have been here for hours. 

As she turned the other way, the light shifted, and her neck was clearly marked by a neon T. Her companion caught her from falling. _TH_.  
TH. As in _THursday_ , the way Skye had written it. I downed what was left of my drink and stumbled to the barman, asking to make a phone call.  
„Thornwell – 2115.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i LOVE you for reading this :)


	6. Chapter 6

**six**

She picked up the phone, and I was so relieved I could have said a prayer of thanks on the spot. I roughed the situation out for her, telling her to leave before they’d figure out her address. I hoped to be one step ahead still.  
She only said one word. _Diner_. Then she hung up.  
I paid for my drinks, emptying the last of my pockets onto the bar, then hurried to the car.  
It had gotten colder, and I still couldn’t wear my coat. I’d probably have the flu in a matter of days, but there was no time to think about that. I had to hurry up if I wanted to make it to the diner we had stopped at before her.

It was a rough drive; the sky was completely clear, no clouds for a blanket. Pulling over with a ruined windshield earned me a few looks from folks smoking in front of the door, but there was nothing I was able to do about it now (or would be any time soon, for that matter). I hastily made my way to the spot we had sat in the last time; Skye wasn’t there yet.

The waitress instantly recognized me.   
„Coffee and Four Roses?“, she chirped.  
„Thanks, love, just the whiskey“, I replied. I had already had a few at the _Thoreau_ , but I don’t think my heart could have put up with any more adrenaline from the caffeine. I was nervous enough as it were.

During the next two hours, the waitress stopped by my table a couple more times, and I always had a nod for her. I’d had enough already; what difference would one more drink make when you were already drunk and still nervous.  
Finally, I heard her shoes click behind me, her perfume hugging me as she walked past my seat.  
„You’re still here“, she said, and I couldn’t tell if it was a reproach or praise.  
„Yeah“, I managed, with a crooked smile. „Hoped you’d show up.“  
„Took me a while to shake the tail“, she explained. One bare hand, one gloved, she reached into her bag for a cigarette. I was still sober enough to offer her a match. 

With a sigh, she gently blew the smoke into my direction. I stared at the red stain her lips made on the cigarette.  
„Did you recognize anyone?“  
„Not really“, I replied. „One of them drove. They had broken into my office first.“  
„Anything missing?“  
„Didn’t have the chance to check.“

„How many of them?“  
„Three. One tall, one older, one gloating.“  
„Average build, dark hair?“  
„Yeah.“  
„Murderous gleam?“  
„Yeah.“  
„He the one that gave you the bruise?“  
I touched my temple. Had to be.  
„Seemed to enjoy himself immensely.“  
Skye nodded. „I know the type. Works for the Germans.“

I was too drunk to really understand, but I made the connection.   
„Stark’s intel.“  
She nodded again.  
„He’s been after me ever since I tracked him down from a photograph. Got too close last month, so I moved.“  
I gulped down the rest of my drink. „You need a place to stay?“  
The look she gave me was enough to make me sweat.  
„Actually, yeah. Are you offering?“  
I was thinking. They knew who I was, so my room wasn’t safe. I didn’t want to involve Marta, so there was only one possibility.

„They were at my office already“, I said. „Should be safe unless we turn on the lights.“  
„Not if they keep an eye on the place.“  
Right. „We could check into a motel. Know one that’s nearby.“  
„You spending the night too, Phil?“  
I swallowed. Where else would I go? I nodded, keeping my eye on the empty glass.  
We left before the waitress could take her order. Skye threw a few bills onto the table, hurrying out the door before I could even stand up.

When I made it to the car, she was in the driver’s seat.  
„No“, she said, before I could even ask.   
I smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this what you call a plot bunny? A silly idea, meant for a one-shot, that just keeps running and running and expanding?  
> If yes ... oops.

**seven**

She drove us to the Yucca Vine Motel on North Cahuenga, a newly built motel advertised as „the finest in Hollywood“. Surely the prices wouldn’t be entirely my category, but I figured we’d manage a night somehow.  
Skye asked about the price at the reception, and I felt somewhat surprised that she didn’t mind doing it. Still, she turned back to show me a count of fingers. Five dollars a night, for one room. Cold sweat trickled down my spine as I realized I had spent the last of my money at the _Thoreau_. Apologetically, I showed her my empty palms. She nodded.

„Alright“, the woman at the reception chirped as soon as Skye laid out the bills. „Mr and Mrs Johnson. I’m giving you a room on the second floor. Has just been cleaned.“  
Skye gave her a stern nod and followed her up the stairs. Stunned, I trailed behind. Mister and Missus. Hadn’t thought the expression would ever include me.  
I finally felt the alcohol hit me hard as I sat down on the bed. Had it been five drinks, six? I threw my hat towards the nightstand and missed entirely. Skye must have heard me sigh, because she came out of the bathroom to sit next to me. She had removed her lipstick, and I realized once more that I was staring at her lips.

„We don’t want stains on the pillowcase, do we.“  
Nothing escaped that woman.  
„You alright?“, she asked. I must have been somewhat wobbly.  
„Sure“, I said. „Didn’t realize how much I’d had to drink.“  
„Get some sleep“, she said. „I prefer the left side of the bed.“  
She left the room with my coat which she had brought inside, presumably to ask if it could be laundered. I had forgotten all about the windshield and splinters.  
I felt like something had knocked all the air out of me, and I decided to wait and see what would happen next, but lying down. Needless to say I was out like a light in a matter of minutes, snoring, probably.

When I woke up, Skye was already dressed, lipstick, single cobalt-blue glove, cigarette, fresh curls, everything.  
„Wow“, I said. I must have been not quite awake yet. Or still drunk.  
Her smile made something pull at my navel.  
„Morning, sleepy.“  
I sat up, feeling a headache creeping up my neck.  
„You okay?“  
„Yeah. Just need some coffee. Have you had breakfast yet?“  
„No. Thought we should get some on the way.“

I scratched my chin; undeniably, there was a stubble.  
„To where?“  
„To find Ward. Likely he’s at the plant again.“  
„Ward?“  
„Guy who beat you up.“  
„The nazi?“  
„That’s the one. Mack says there was a meeting at the Plaza yesterday. As far as we know, Ward is about to leak a bunch of blueprints as well as the Erskine formula to the Germans at noon today.“  
„Mack?“  
„He’s family. Works at the Plaza.“

„What time is it?“  
„Breakfast. I’m driving.“  
„Skye, I swear I’m alright.“  
„I’m driving.“  
There was that smile again; not to sound like a romance novel, but hell, did it light up the room.  
I gathered my stuff, fingering for any forgotten coins.  
„It’s fine. It’s on me.“  
I must have looked surprised; I wouldn’t know for sure. It was a very slow morning for me.  
„I’ve been helping out at Arlington Hall“, she explained. „Codes and such.“  
She was getting more interesting by the minute, had been ever since I’d met her.

„So, off to catch some Nazis?“, I tried, sounding not quite as awake as I would have liked.  
„Yes“, she chimed. „But first, coffee. Trust me, I know a spot.“

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is Marlowe's phone number, like, the "actual" one. :)  
> Thanks so much for readiiiiiing!


End file.
